You Were the Man Then, DAWG.

Simpler Days: With Dawgs Hat proudly on head, Tom rejoices on the last day of Chaminade in '97, with Pimp Daddy Craine, Not Impressed Grant, Bishop, Gordo, Wayniac and Lyncho.

To truly appreciate the saga of the Dawgs Hat, you have to mentally transport yourself to the teenage atmosphere of Long Island in the late '90's. Back then, before creatively-bereft fashion designers were raiding the back closets of the 1970's, when popular fashion was slowly emerging from the grunge movement, and a million niche styles exploded onto the scene. That crazy time when the "skater" look was only worn by... well, skaters. And for the rest of us mere mortals, we employed a sort of weird amalgam style of Tommy Hilfiger, Gap, and Pacific Sunwear. Yes, that was also before everyone started abbreviating things and we actually had the endurance to say, "Pacific Sunwear," as opposed to "PacSun." We were hardy, like that. As for what girls wore back then... I'm not exactly sure, as I didn't know any. But I'm 75% positive that they didn't wear Ugg boots.

Wayne, the Dawgs Hat, and I chilling out in '98 after the Infamous Mount Washington Hike, along with the single can of beer that Wayne smuggled in and that we both got drunk on.

So what was the significance of the Dawgs Hat? Well, have you transported yourself back to the couture wasteland of the late '90's, yet? Back then, throughout the eastern seaboard of the US, if not the entire country, the must-have cabeza accessory for guys was the "college bar hat," for want of a better term. Popularized by the New English white guy lacrosse chic, these caps usually had either the name of a college or the mascot emblazoned across the front, framed on the top and bottom with two lines, or "bars". These things were pervasive throughout the period. Unless you were in a coma in the late '90's, then you know exactly what I'm talking about. Chances are, you probably owned two or three of 'em.

The Dawgs Hat: Good for wearing, not for eating.

Well, my brother Mike was certainly more fashion conscious than I back then, as well as the more consummate athlete, so he cycled through those bar hats faster than his pairs of expensive, trendy sneakers. (The same sneakers have since enjoyed a lengthy second life with my dad... who is now the coolest sexuagenarian in cardiac rehab, wearing his adopted red Air Jordan kicks.) Around this time, I decided to finally jump on the hat bandwagon, and wheeled my bike up to the local Modell's store and bought what I thought was the coolest hat I could find: South Carolina Fighting Gamecocks. It was a bright new white cap with "COCKS" printed across the front in bold letters, with "University of South Carolina" printed in smaller letters on the bottom, just to clear up any potentially embarrassing misconceptions about what I was interested in.

The Dawgs Hat finds a small improvement in the dust and filth of Woodstock '99 - a red Metallica ninja star sticker that fit perfectly on its bill. Check out Matt's "X-Men"bar hat!

Well, my brilliant purchase had a major achilles heel. Usually when teenagers buy shocking apparel to demonstrate their commercially-purchased individuality, they usually have the balls to actually wear it. Not me. Whenever I had the nerve to take it out of my house, it spent more time hastily stuffed in my pocket than on my noggin'. When I refereed 3C Week games at Chaminade, I had absolutely no intention of wearing my bright white "COCKS" hat in front of the brothers. Most likely, that hat would remain an embarrassing artifact of my hopelessly non-cool teenage lifestyle, but fate would ultimately intervene. Somehow, my brother lost or wore out his recent bar cap and needed another one in time for his sleep-away lacrosse camp. I lent him my ridiculous hat, happy to see it go. And as luck would have it, I never saw that stupid hat ever again.

Few could pull off the Hawaiian shirt and black Dawgs Hat combo and still look cool. This is yet another example.

My brother returned from camp, with no COCKS hat. He had forgotten it on the plane. I feigned outrage, mainly because he was my brother, and it was my job. But it did the trick, and he figured he'd give me his new cap as repayment - a black Georgia Lacrosse Bulldogs bar cap... "The Dawgs Hat" had arrived.

Why are we as a species compelled to put big hats on small heads? I don't know, but it's damn cute. Here you can see grizzled masking tape I had on the back of the Dawgs Hat.

What made the Dawgs Hat awesome was its semi-uniqueness. Most bar caps of the era were white. Plus, Georgia University Lacrosse was not a typical pick for Long Island kids. Usually you had the mooks with their UMASS hats, sometimes with the "M" covered up or scratched off, thus making character judgements on all who read its altered message. That clever device sorta wore thin after the fifth one I saw at the mall. And finally, my new hat said "DAWGS" on it... which is just cool. The misspelling coolness factor is diametrically opposed to the misspelling "DOGGS." That would just have been lame. From that point on, from my senior year of high school, the Dawgs Hat became my constant companion; accompanying me to Senior Night, last day festivities, graduation parties, softball games, roadtrips, beach days, and hikes. Strangely, the only place I didn't bring it to, was Ireland. But it was waiting for me when I got back...

As awesome as I looked in the Dawgs Hat, Ally just looked better. She looks better than me in all my stuff. Strangely, I don't look good in her stuff.

In the summer of '99, the Dawgs Hat and I were happily reunited, just in time for the 3-day dirty, dusty disaster of Woodstock '99. There I found a red Metallica ninja star car decal. It was just big enough to fit on the bill, and that hat somehow became even cooler. The sticker stayed there, faithfully, for a couple of months, and then sort of withered off. That autumn, Ally and I went on our first weekend trip as a couple - whitewater rafting in Kittatinny. After various trips, service projects, school retreats, beach runs, and a particularly interesting day with Habitat for Humanity, my beloved Dawgs Hat was lost. I had forgotten it on the charter bus that took us to our senior college retreat. Despite frantic phonecalls to the bus company, and their lies-upon-lies, promising me they'd check the bus as soon as it arrived at the depot, the Dawgs Hat was never seen again.

Probably the coolest picture of me, ever.

Years have passed, and I've tried to fill the void left by the Dawgs Hat with other, lesser caps. My factory-error St. John's "Gopher" hat, while a semi-interesting conversation starter, never attained the same legendary status of its predecessor. And my pre-faded Yankees cap, while inherently awesome, obviously lacks the Dawgs Hat originality... since the Yankees probably are the most widely-produced ball caps in the world. Lately, in my moments of leisure, limited though they may be, I've trolled around a little bit on Ebay and the internet, searching in vain for a black "dawgs" hat... to no avail. While replicas of the white dawgs hat is still produced and sold, the same cannot be said of the black model. And while I fervently hope for someone to post the legendary headwear on ebay, and I faithfully check for it on a daily basis, I believe that if any such hat still exists, it's probably in some bargain bin in some long-neglected corner of a sporting goods store. So I implore you all:

If you ever find a black "DAWGS Georgia Lacrosse" bar hat, identical to the one in these pictures, please buy it for me, and I will happily reimburse you!

Remember: Ally's unadorned head needs your support! Much like the rest of her body needs the support of Geraldine and me.

Feedback Question of the Day:
"Have you ever lost a prized possession? Did you ever find it again?"